


Anywhere But Here

by slowmobanana



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A little bit of everything tbh, Alzheimer's Disease, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Drama, Gen, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-28 03:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowmobanana/pseuds/slowmobanana
Summary: It's been five years since the Light has returned to Eos. Gladio has a family, Ignis is caught up with the duties that come with being the late King's adviser, and Prompto is forced to face his fears when his health takes a sudden turn for the worse. With the threat of another war on the edge of a new era, it will take everything they have to protect Lucis and unite the world as one.--It started with the day of the week, important appointments. Birthdays. Places. Memories. Sometimes where he lived. Sometimes who was a friend. At first only a few, and then too many. Words he should've known, responses that should have come as naturally as breathing. Conversations fell apart, faces without names.So, consider this the story of how Prompto lost everything too early all because of what he was told never mattered suddenly does.





	1. Habitual

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an attempt of an idea that sprung from a particular Tumblr post by yourscientistfriend (link below) and I decided I wanted to give a try writing a story more like drama than action. Anyways, bare with me, because this is a new type of story I'm writing and it's not very planned out. Anyways, I hope this goes good, but ehhhhh. We'll see what happens.  
> On with the story!
> 
> Link: http://yourscientistfriend.tumblr.com/post/162257846100/on-promptos-bar-codes

Someone said once that it took twenty-one days for something to become a habit.

Six days, ten hours, and forty-one minutes since Prompto's declaration to quit smoking and, here he was, sitting outside the apartment building at four in the morning, lighting a cigarette. He blamed the nightmare but he couldn't remember it once he'd woken up and he'd made it halfway outside before he realised a cigarette wasn't gonna make him feel any better. That wasn't enough to stop him.

He sat now on the concrete steps leading up to the lobby, bare elbows rested on thinly clothed knees, taking a drag of tar and burning, waiting a moment, exhaling. Big, shapeless puffs of smoke meandered towards the night sky, fading out small stars from his vision for just a moment before dissipating it's separate ways unwillingly. It was chilly but not cold; there was no movement of the air and so the coolness was still but deep, like a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders and seeping in towards his bones.

It was quiet for a night in downtown Insomnia compared to how it used to be. Some distant, bassy music made the ground buzz, shouting and whirring as if it weren't four in the morning and people were trying to sleep. The occasional car passed, often low grumbling and mumbling about the partiers due north. And a drunken couple that tried to kiss each other and missed and ended up so sloppily stumbling down the street with giggles for words and misconjointed dancing instead of steps. Prompto watched them for far longer than he probably should have.

He took another drag.

Beyond the buildings before him, he could see the edges of the sky lighting from deep velvet black to a sleepy navy blue. Since First Sunrise, it seemed like the world had just been a tad out of whack, like it forgot the time it was supposed to lighten and darken. Ten years was a long enough time to forget something, he supposed. He admitted curiousity of all the things he had forgotten then, too, like the how the sun burned his skin or the way morning dew flickered light like grounded stars. How nice it was to see the world lit again.

(Well, sort of.)

“Mornin',” said someone from behind him, sauntering down the steps only the way a man without coffee in the early morn would. Prompto leaned sideways to let the guy by, nodded once to him, offered a faint smile when their eyes met, and the man was on his way.

With a last draw, he stabbed the cigarette into the concrete steps to put it out and flicked the rest of it away towards the street. He pulled himself to his feet with the help of the metal railing beside him, took a deep breath of clean air, and retreated back inside. He didn't realise how cold he was until the warmth of the apartment lobby rushed to greet him like a worried mother.

The halls were long and empty and white. They'd been more or less in disrepair even since before Last Sundown, when the darkness came and swallowed everything whole. He lived up on the forth floor, which was nice because he liked to look out his window and down on everything and witness peace from the comfort of his living room.

He always took the stairs. He always took out his key before opened the door from the stairwell to his hall. His door was third down on the right.

The apartment door shut behind him with a gentle click. This place had been his for nearly five years now. It didn't feel like home for a long time; he was still wired to be anywhere but here for so long. Hunting trips, camping out, locating refugees and helping them find a place. He'd been without a home for ten years. Then, suddenly, he had one and he had no idea what to do with it.

He chose, eventually, to fill it with familiar things, like posters and pictures and probably far too many furnishings for one person but he liked to think he'd have people over. Parties. Gatherings. Instead everything became cluttered and his room was such a mess that he'd almost rival Noctis.

Almost.

He pushed a chair into the dining table and threw his keys on the window sill. (Such a bad habit; sometimes that window was open.) Silence greeted him like an old friend that had chosen to return after being gone so long on a cruise and forgot to bring souvenirs from it's trip; Prompto wasn't mad, maybe just a bit salty. He turned on the TV set for some background noise, didn't pay attention to a damn thing on it, and made breakfast.

...

“Where's Ignis? Isn't he coming?”

Gladio sat across the booth from Prompto, sipping some milk from a red and white straw. Sitting on his left leg was an eight month old baby that babbled and made a mess of drool. Even covered in saliva, she was still cute and Prompto had a blast cooing her and gently tapping his index finger against her nose. He called her Giggles. That was absolutely not her name.

“Later. Had some work to catch up on.” Gladio placed both his hands on Giggles and bounced her on his leg and she seemed to like that. In her tiny fist, she held a small rubber ring and put it in her mouth to chew. Judging from Gladio's lack of concern, that was what it was meant for. “You know, as the late King's adviser, a lot of people have turned to him for advise on how to rebuild and move forward. More so than us.”

“You more than me,” Prompto added, though he wasn't envious. He appreciated his freedom. At most he was flagged down by the occasional person who recognized him as a the hunter who rescued them or escorted them to safety or reunited them with family they thought they'd lost. Unfortunately, Prompto couldn't remember them back.

Ignis and Gladio were often busy with work. Gladio had a family and Ignis was just too bore down by royal duties that Noctis should've been doing but that slacker found a way out of everything by dying and saving the entire world from eternal darkness.

“Guess someone's gotta run the country. Think the Scientia family line will become a royal one?”

Gladio scoffed. “Not at the rate he's going. He'll be six feet under with paperwork stacked on his grave before he finds himself a wife. Besides, I don't think he really enjoys the thought of being King. That last one really dampened the idea for him, I think.” They both sort of laughed and Giggles made a weird high pitched noise because she was smart enough to realise that they found something funny but didn't know what or how to laugh.

A sweet-smiling waitress came by with a pad and pen and asked them what they wanted. Prompto ordered a chocolate banana crepe and Gladio got steak and eggs. Giggles clapped her hands impatiently. “You can wait like the rest of us,” he said and her eyes got real wide then looked around the room. Prompto liked to think of things she would be thinking, like her shock that her daddy wasn't spoiling her like he always did. Was anybody seeing this injustice? She had to wait to eat like they did! Astrals save her!

There was some small talk, Prompto just mentioned that Cor wanted him to help move some building supplies from Lestallum to Insomnia. Gladio told him that Giggles was learning how to walk. That was far more interesting.

“He's here,” Gladio announced suddenly, partway through their conversation. Turning, he spotted Ignis sauntering into the restaurant and straining to hear their voices. A waitress approached him, he nodded, spoke, and she just seemed confused.

Prompto stood and yelled, “Hey, Ignis!” to let him know he had been seen, dismissed the waitress, and thus guided the adviser to their table. “What's up? Long time, no see.”

Ignis slid in beside Prompto's side of the booth and set his cane against the red leather seat. “Sorry I'm late. I had been caught up in some final preparations involving some greater projects in the Crown City. In time, Insomnia shall be restored to it's former glory, given a few... minor changes.”

Prompto had to sigh more than he would've liked. “Yeah. Bye-bye Blue Star Cinema. I miss sneaking in there with Noct and good ol' Mr. Anderson kicking us out. Never called the cops, though. Real nice guy.”

“I think it more had to do with the Prince than him being a nice guy,” Gladio said.

“I'm surprised he kicked out the Prince at all,” Ignis added and Prompto waved his hands in front of his face dramatically.

“Lemme have the nice memory! Please?” A small rise came from the table and settled like dust on a lampshade; subtle and comfortably. “Ignis, we ordered already. Did you want anything?”

“No, thank you. I ate shortly before my arrival. Honestly, I wasn't certain if I'd make it here at all.”

“Understandable,” said Gladio.

“Lame,” muttered Prompto. “Can't sit down and have a nice meal with friends anymore.” Ignis leaned back silently and observed their conversation.

“I'd hardly call a chocolate banana crepe a meal. More like a heart attack on a plate.”

“Hey! I earned that crepe, okay? I've been taking good care of myself. It's called a cheat day.”

“Haven't earned it with me. In fact, I haven't seen you around the training grounds in a while. Don't reckon you've been skipping on your training.”

“Training for what?” There was an awkward pause. Giggles babbled to fill the silence. Prompto fell back against his chair and folded his hands on the table. “We've killed things way stronger than a behemoth. Nothing out there scares me anymore.”

“Don't get cocky,” Gladio began. Under other circumstances, maybe he would've been more stern, but Giggles was slapping her hands against the table and Gladio was reduced to his warning tone. “One false move out there and you'll be a pair of dog tags. Trust me, kiddo, that isn't a way you wanna go.”

Ignis folded his hands on the table and straightened his back. “It seems to me, Gladio, that you should remind him what training is for.”

Both parties reacted immediately. Prompto slunk further into his seat and muttered, “No, no. Please.”

And Gladio leaned forward and went, “Oh, yeah! That's a great idea, Ignis.”

“No, I don't wanna fight today.”

“Sorry, Prompto, but you started it.”

Prompto kept whining and covering his face with his hands. “No, he's gonna kick my ass. That's not fair.”

“Bet you wish you'd got something more substantial that a crepe, huh?” Gladio taunted. At this, Ignis reached into his coat and produced a protein bar, and Gladio laughed louder than he should have. Giggles's eyes went wide and she leaned backward to look at her father with an open mouth.

Prompto took the bar, tore it open, and gnawed the first bite as the waitress returned with their food and she eyed him suspiciously. “Just couldn't wait to eat, huh?”

He sighed.

...

A chocolate-flavoured protein bar and some more chocolate later, Gladio had practically skipped to the training ground with Prompto in one arm and Giggles in the other. Ignis trailed behind them and stood almost perfectly at the edge of the ring. Temporarily, Gladio handed Giggles to Ignis, who just held the child as if it was second nature to him.

Prompto was certain everything was second nature to him. Everything was so effortless with him. “Ignis, you can't even see. Why are you watching this?”

“Because I can enjoy a good fight without needing to watch.” Giggles reached up and pulled his glasses off his face to investigate them. Ignis didn't even flinch.

Gladio took place a good few feet in front of Prompto in the ring and stretched his arms, cracked his neck. “In other words, he's gonna enjoy the sweet symphony of me beating your ass into the ground.”

“Aw, c'mon!”

“Sorry, Prompto,” Ignis said but he didn't sound very sorry. Actually, he sounded more apologetic to Giggles when he took his sunglasses back because she was upset she didn't get to chew them first. “but hopefully this will motivate you to get back to your training.”

Running his hands through his hair, Prompto was regretting eating the whole damn crepe instead of just taking it to go. “Why?”

Gladio clenched his hands into fists and readied himself. “We're only doing this because we care about you. Now, let's see if I can rub some dirt into smug goatee on your face.”

“No enjoyment at all. Not even a little.”

Prompto had barely gotten that last word out edgewise before Gladio stepped forward into a full sprint and, Astrals, was it terrifying for a man that large to come charging at you full throttle. Prompto sort of made a weird strangled yelp, ducked to the side, looped around so Gladio only wrapped his arms around air.

There was a pause, a moment of realisation, a slow turn as shield eyes glinted playfully down at the blond and a smirk graced his features. Hands in loose fists, Prompto jumped his weight back and forth between his feet and gently tilted his head one way and back. Now the real game had begun.

Dust kicked up from scuffling feet, fists flying with half-hearted strength but full powered speed, Prompto swayed and fro'd and Gladio just pushed attempted fists away with his forearms. Wham, a fist jabbed the centre of the gunman's face and his head snapped back with a flash of white. Confusion, instinctively moving left because Gladio always followed jabs with low stomach blows. It wasn't a hard hit, just enough to make Prompto think again and half as fast until he oriented himself again.

Consideration; a flash of an idea, something of an execution. Well, if he was going to play, he'd play by his own rules.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand; no blood but there was snot running from the shock to his sinuses. Gladio taunted him with a signal of his hands and Prompto accepted that challenge. He closed in, faked Gladio with a face jab and a false opening, sidestepped. Gladio fell for it and Prompto went right and behind him. Crouched, lunged, and leapt onto Gladio's back. Arms wrapped tight around his neck, legs around his waist. Gladio grunted. Prompto hollered, raised one hand above his hand, and swung it like he held an imaginary lasso.

“Yee haw!”

With barely a second to let him revel in his temporary victory, Gladio reached up, gripped the arm Prompto had around his neck like iron, and flipped him over his shoulder with all the force of a great typhoon. With a resounding thud, Prompto's back slammed against the ground and all the air in his lungs made an emergency escape. He opened his mouth to groan but he was absolutely soundless, a pained smile wrinkling his nose and it was running again.

Gladio put a boot on his chest and grinned down at him. “Looks like I win. You make it too easy, shortcake.”

Prompto's arms fell to his sides and he finally found the breath to speak. “Sure. But you gotta give me style points for that.”

“Style points mean nothing on the battlefield.”

“Hey, if I have to die out there, I want everyone to remember me as Prompto Argentum, that idiot who got stuck by a Garula trying to pull a sick back flip over it.”

Gladio grunted something of a laugh and stepped off his chest, offering a hand to help him up. “It's your reputation,” he retorted as he pulled Prompto to his feet. Ignis crossed the distance to them, offering the shield his daughter like a victory prize. Gladio gladly took Giggles into his arms and brushed a thumb against her cheek. She was pleased with that.

“Prompto, I hope to see you in the training grounds more often from this point,” the adviser advised. “lest you choose to back flip over the wrong Garula.”

Without really thinking, he retorted, “Ignis, you can't see.”

There was a pause and Ignis set both his hands on his cane. “Care for a small match, then, Prompto?”

Immediately, the blond placed enough distance between him and the guys to fit a platoon of MTs. “You know what? I have to go. I think I left my stove on.” (He wasn't oblivious to Ignis's sly smirk on the corner of his mouth.)

“See you tomorrow morning!” Gladio called as Prompto hurried off the field. “Five AM sharp!”

“Whatever!” yelled Prompto with a halfhearted wave over his shoulder. Mornings were his thing now, anyway.

 


	2. Concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this story is so slow moving, but I swear it will pick up.  
> On with the story!

Prompto started smoking when he was just about twenty-seven, so he had been smoking for short of ten years now. Not chronically; the occasional one when he woke in cold sweat or when became aware of his own heartbeat, quick pulse enough to make him think twice and he would excuse himself for a cigarette. It always made a good excuse when he felt social anxiety creeping up on him since the King of Lucis wasn't around to console him.

“I thought you quit smoking,” Ignis said when Prompto actually turned up at five AM in the training grounds as ordered by the Shield. The blond hesitated, sniffed his clothes, and didn't smell anything. Leaning down to do so made the muscles in his back groan and stretch unhappily. “Of course, you would be unable to detect the scent of cigarette smoke given how often you seem to be around it.”

“Well,” Prompto began, letting it hang in the air before considering a good enough response. “Quitting's for quitters.”

Ignis's expression didn't change; a thin line his lips made when he was disappointed. “So it seems.”

“And here I was afraid you wouldn't show up,” Gladio goaded as he approached them from somewhere Prompto didn't really see. “Ignis. Decided to join us?”

“If only for a moment.” Ignis shifted his weight, letting his head nod up and down as he spoke. “I must attend a small meeting in the Citadel before long. I was simply stopping by to ensure Prompto continued his training with you. That is all.”

Gladio nodded, folding his arms over his chest. The wind came through with heart, winded it's way through pillars and walls and made them all shiver. How bitter this morning was. The sky was grey now and the air smelled like salt and water. Gladio was the only one not sporting a coat. “Of course,” the shield said, then tapped a knuckle against Prompto's stomach. “Don't worry, Iggy. He'll lose that belly fat by the end of the week.”

“Hey!”

Ignis seemed amused, the way his thin lipped line curved ever so slightly upward. “I should hope so. And Prompto, the marshal wishes to speak with you soon regarding the trip to Lestallum.”

Prompto didn't really seem to focus on that part of that sentence, but he heard it. He was looking at his stomach and pinching it with his fingers to see if he'd really gained weight. “Why are you guys picking on me? What have I-- Oh, _son_ of a _bitch_! I did gain weight!”

Gladio shook his head and gently nudged Prompto on the shoulder. “That's not what's important. You need to keep your skills sharp and your muscles strong. Everything else will take care of itself.”

“Speak for yourself,” Prompto mumbled, still staring at his stomach.

“Then I trust you will work hard, Prompto.” Ignis adjusted himself and set his cane out in front of him. The other two gave full attention as he turned away. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave. Duties in the Citadel are not ones to be tardy with.”

“Yeah, have fun,” Prompto said as Ignis started away. “Man, I'm glad I'm here and not adulting like Ignis. Those sort of things are just too much for my brain to handle.”

Gladio snorted and stepped backward towards the edge of the ring and started to jog around the outside of the grounds. “Yeah, keep that in mind when you try to weasel your way out of your push ups later!”

“Push ups!?”

“C'mon, Prompto! Get some blood pumping!”

...

The wind picked up by the time the sky had fully lightened and the gentle grey tone seemed to shift between thunderstorm warning and passing by. No rain yet, but the moisture in the air constantly threatened it.

Kingsglaive started shifting into the field each with their hopes of securing a small spot on the dusty arena to spar with their fellow soldiers. Prompto was soaking in sweat, his hear was falling forward because this new brand of hair spray he'd been trying didn't hold as well as he wanted it to, but he was more focused on the cigarette between his lips and the phone in his hands. Gladio tried to talk him out of a smoke break but there was a lot of people and withdrawal made his hands shake and focusing on the task at hand was suddenly a little harder.

His cigarette was half burned when Cor came to talk to him as Ignis had said. He was older now, with silvery hair and a walking cane, but there were those who insisted that Cor was still able to kick as much ass as ever could before. He was aging well, but he had a limp and needed to stretch his back before he stood from any seated position. Gladio refused to let Cor fight.

Cor didn't care and trained with the new recruits anyway.

Prompto promptly slipped the phone back in his pocket and put out the cigarette on the wall, standing straight just as the marshal approached him. “Hey,” he said half-stupidly but Prompto wasn't exactly always one for the most formal formalities. Cor wasn't swayed anyhow.

“Good morning, Prompto,” he returned. “I see you're doing well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. There is a matter I wish to discuss.” Cor didn't explain any further. He started in a new direction and Prompto followed instinctively. He wasn't sure where they were going but it was away from the training grounds, down the stairs towards a near park.

No matter how little time Prompto spent on the grounds, it always made everything seem greener and saturated when he left. The air felt cooler, clearer. The smell of dust and sweat stayed behind. He sort of wished he'd brought his camera, but it was left at home on the dining table lest he risk it be broken in the fight. (Not that he hadn't done so before, but no armiger meant to safe place to put it.) He couldn't help sucking in a chestful of air and stretching his arms out his sides as he walked, eventually putting them up behind his head. Cor payed him no mind. “So, what's on your mind, marshal?”

“Something has come up recently and some details have changed regarding the Lestallum building supplies.”

“What's up? Couldn't just shoot me a text?” Cor didn't say anything as some Glaives passed them on the steps. Instead, he waited until they had reached the bottom and pulled something of a sharp turn right. Prompto didn't say anything and just followed obediently. Once it seemed like they were alone, the marshal halted his movement and turned to face him. Prompto's brows pressed together. “I take it that's a no.”

“We received word,” he began carefully. “that the Imperial army has been spotted retrieving old Magitek soldiers from places around Lucis.” Prompto lowered his arms and his eyes narrowed. “Not only have they been crossing our borders without our knowledge but also have been gathering, albeit old, supplies.”

“What are they gonna do with a bunch of rusted nuts and bolts?” Prompto asked too quickly. “They were made from Starscourge and that's gone, so they just all... died.”

“We aren't sure,” came the honest reply. “but we fear that another war may be a possibility.”

Prompto's heart sank into his stomach and he felt sick. “Sure,” he said, trying to hide his dread with sarcasm. So much for breaking walls, seems they were breaking bonds instead.

“In any case, we need to exercise caution. I'm sending Aranea Highwind with you.”

And that had Prompto lit up like a lighthouse at night. “Aranea!? No way!”

Cor didn't look pleased with his reaction but didn't comment on it. “I understand you and Highwind have a history together.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well--”

“With the recent word of the Imperial threat, there has been fear the people of Lucis may come to distrust those that should be considered allies.”

Prompto nodded and thought about what he was going to say to Aranea when he saw her. How long had it been? What had she been up to recently? “How did you even managed to find her?”

“We didn't. She found us. In fact, she was the one who gave us news of the Imperial's recent whereabouts.”

Shoutout to Aranea. “So, am I still travelling to Lestallum on my own?”

“For the time being, yes.” Cor rested on his walking cane now. Maybe he'd been left standing too long. “Highwind will meet you in Lestallum at the arranged meeting time.”

Prompto nodded, more or less content with the information. “Well, I won't let you down, marshal.”

“Nor did I expect you to,” he replied. “But understand that if anything happens on that trip, you will be charged with protecting the citizens and you are to forgo the cargo aboard the trucks if it gets too rough. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Perfect. You're dismissed.”

...

Prompto picked up a few supplies to bring with him on his way to Lestallum. Some protein snacks, a couple bottles of water, and a bit more ammo than what was probably necessary. The news – when he finally took his mind off of seeing Aranea – was concerning. After ten years of scrambling and banding together to fight back against the darkness, how could they decide Lucis was still the enemy?

He wanted to push it aside as rumours and whispers but if Aranea was the source then how could he not trust it?

When he got home, he dropped the supplies next to his door so he wouldn't forget them, cracked open a beer and distracted himself with video games for the night. He ignored the muscles complaining in his body from overexertion and, still, from Gladio laying him flat the previous morning but the aches subsided by the time he'd opened his third can.

...

He remembered his camera but not that stupid bag and he was halfway to Hammerhead before he realised it. He sighed from the Hammerhead entrance sign all the way to Cindy's garage – because he couldn't dare pass without dropping in to say hi.

Prompto pulled his car into the gas station and parked it next to the pump. When he opened the door, he was meet with Liede's arid air. A hot breeze swept dust into his ankles and his eyes. Ah, how he missed Liede; the long road trips with the top down, how the wind felt cool and warm in waves and the sun was brighter than he'd ever seen.

Hair gel held against than the elements and Prompto was glad he'd thrown in his extra strength stuff for the trip.

“Well, well! Look who it is!”

He'd barely a chance to close the driver side door when Cindy sauntered out, hips swaying side to side with all the spunk and confidence of a woman who'd spent her life fighting daemons in her own backyard, even if he'd never really seen her use a weapon. (But have no doubt! He'd seen her wield a monkey wrench something fierce and clobber a goblin on the head until she'd sent the whole pack of them running.)

“Hey, Cindy,” he started, meeting her halfway.

She approached him but her gaze were on his ride, a sense of pride adding stars to her eyes. “I see ya've been takin' good care of her. She's as good as I remember.”

“Yeah, she's way prettier in the light. You did a great job.”

“Well, I outta thank ya. Havin' something to tinker with when everything was dark helped a ton.”

Prompto's car, which he'd come to name Rosanne, was a pretty, cherry red clunker with a long scorch mark that darkened the driver's side door, presumably from a red giant. After he'd lost the Silver Bullet to an Iseultalon, he'd spent time looking for a new vehicle to get around with. He'd found Rosanne ditched on the side of the road, rusted and hopeless but he was dedicated to pushing it all the way to Cindy's garage and she had been more than delighted to be given a new project. She'd sent him out on multiple searches for things to repair her with and Rosanne had become a project for the both of them. A distraction from the darkness. Even given the circumstances, he was willing to say those days were amongst the best of his memories.

When Cindy redid the paint job, she kept the mark untouched for it's personality, but when the light came back to Lucis, some people had suggested it be painted over to erase the link to the darkness. However, Prompto wasn't about to erase the past – no matter how painful it was. That mark represented far more than anyone was ever willing to know.

“So, what brings ya all the way out here?”

Prompto turned his attention from car to Cindy and he swayed a bit. He noticed her eyes flicker down to the handgun strapped to his chest. “Just passing through. Forgot my supply bag back home, so I gotta grab some things.” He paused, then admitted, “Also thought I'd come say hi.”

Cindy smiled and gestured to her garage. “Well, you know you're always welcome 'round here. Why don't ya come say hi to pawpaw? I'm sure he's loaded with question's 'bout the Crown City.”

...

He dropped in, exchanged pleasantries with Cid. The man had grown old and Cindy somehow stayed timeless. She must've gotten it from the other side of the family.

“So, how's the Crown City fairing without a King?” Cid asked finally, and Prompto was certain he'd been wanting to know since he heard either of the late King's retainers was in Hammerhead.

“Fine, I guess,” he answered without really considering the question. He just let his thoughts spill; he was in the company of friends, not Glaives. “I don't really follow any of the politics. Too complicated for me. Iggy handles everything politics and Gladio and Cor take care of everything--” He hesitated. “Everything war-related.”

Cid hummed thoughtfully, as if he was psychic and pulling the memory of Prompto's conversation with Cor about the Imperials. “And what about you? What do you do?”

Prompto smiled nervously. “Not much. I'm just apart of the Crownsguard still. Stick around, help out where I'm needed.” It didn't feel like he did much. Since they were in a time of peace, there were no real need for Crownsguard, other than some simple errands and rebuilding places and volunteer work in the name of the King. He never knew what to do with himself. Seven years was long enough to get the majority of homes and businesses back to Insomnia. No need for fighting.

Not yet, anyway.

“It's real somethin' to watch all these people gettin' together and helpin' each other out,” Cindy added then and Prompto definitely hadn't forgotten she was part of the conversation. “Sounds like you guys got a mighty good team back home, huh?”

“A day at a time. We'll have Insomnia up and running in no time.”

...

Prompto went to the shop before he headed out again, bought a few snacks, a bottle of water, and more bullets. Cindy busied herself with Rosanne, checking over a few things under the hood and filling the gas tank when she noticed it was low.

He came back as she was finishing up and he handed her a few pieces of gil for her work. (He always made sure to keep some on hand should he ever leave Insomnia, but he remembered someone saying that most of the Crown City's former currency had been lost and there was considering of converting over to the gil as everyone in the last ten years had become accustomed to it.)

“You have a safe drive now,” she said as Prompto hopped into the front seat, throwing the plastic bag onto the passanger side; he started the car, rolled down a window so he could still hear her. “Take good care of her -- and don't go goin' too fast now, ya hear?”

“Take the fun out of everything,” he joked, flashing her a smile, and she just sighed.

She patted Rosanne twice and Prompto pulled forward and around and started for Lestallum.

 


End file.
